


In Progress

by AmoraDelara



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Agent Stiles Stilinski, Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, BAMF Derek, BAMF Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Peter Hale is the Bad Guy, SIA - Supernatural Intelligence Agency, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Tags to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 13:15:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17387057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmoraDelara/pseuds/AmoraDelara
Summary: Stiles is who they bring in when rules don't apply. He's the Spark for gray area morals and a 100% success rate. Derek ends up helping him on a case to take down Peter Hale, known crime boss and Alpha werewolf... who also happens to be Derek's uncle. Stiles always works the field alone, but finds Derek may be the best partner yet. In more ways than one.





	In Progress

**Author's Note:**

> I have a general idea of where this is going! Yay for winging it! I'd be happy if you come on this ride with me and please leave comments. They fuel me to write. <3  
> If there's anything I didn't tag and you would like me to, please let me know!

Stiles knows they’re coming. For werewolves they’re about as stealthy as, well, werewolves, but not heavily trained ones. They take the route through the abandoned warehouse predicted and he waits, hearing amplified with a spell, until they hit the last set of stairs.

He snaps for his own dramatic effect, watching as the door slams open with bodies tumbling onto the floor, purple wolfsbane smoke billowing out behind them. There’s coughing and some shouting as the wolves not immediately killed fan out to form a perimeter of the open space. He’s on a mostly open floor, structural columns and random broken furniture all that’s left for the dust motes dancing in the sunlight pouring in the giant, dingy windows.

“Come on, fellas, can’t we talk this out,” Stiles jibes, arms spread wide. His tattoos almost vibrate with malicious intent under this long-sleeve black shirt, only the ones trailing up his neck and wrapping his hands visible. Most of the werewolves lift their guns to point at him.

“Guess not,” he replies with a frown, shrugging and letting his hands fall to his sides, face going serious. Bullets immediately start firing when Stiles’ eyes glow a bright yellow-white. They ricochet off an invisible wall surrounding him, some returning to hit their own comrades before they realize and stop.

“You know,” Stiles flicks his hand up and examines his nails. “I could have just killed you all instantly, but I thought this would be fun. I’m bored now. However I need one of you alive to tell Peter to fuck off for me… Who’s it going to be?” The room stills as they all look among themselves, deciding whether to fight or run. One wolf snarls at him and he smiles. “You’ll do.”

Stiles moves to gather energy in his palms, eyes glowing again, and sparks thrumming around his hands like lightning. Before he can counter, the window crashes and he’s struck in the neck. Assuming it’s a sniper, his hand flies to his neck, only to find a dart rather than a bullet hole.

“Fuck.”

//

When Stiles wakes up he’s in a dimly lit, grungy looking basement with concrete everything and only one point of entry. His hands are bound above him with chain thrown over a pipe on the ceiling, and when he tries his magic there’s nada. Huffing he realizes there’s someone chained across from him, head lolled to the side and unmoving, looking really roughed up - slow healing burns, deep gouges, and dried blood from old wounds elsewhere. Probably a werewolf then.

“Hey, dude, you dead or what?” The guy slowly lifts his head to look at Stiles, and wow those are some pretty eyes under angry eyebrows, too bad his face is covered in blood to the point of being unrecognizable. Stiles knows most of Peter’s affiliates and enemies.

When the guy doesn’t talk, Stiles does. “You’re doing great sweetie,” he snarks. The werewolf glares harder and Stiles sees a shimmer of red in his eyes. “Ohhhh, calm down, Sourwolf. Don’t get testy. I can tell Peter’s obviously not your biggest fan, and an enemy of my enemy is my friend, so.” Stiles catches the subtle flinch at the mention of Peter’s name.

“If we’re gonna be friends, I gotta know your name. I’m Stiles,” he goes on with false cheeriness.

“You expect me to believe  _ Stiles _ is your real name?” Werewolf guy grits out, giving him an unimpressed expression, even through the blood; Stiles contributes it mostly to the eyebrows….

“The eyebrows!” Stiles exclaims instead. Then he sighs dramatically, hanging his head. “You’re Derek Hale, aren’t you?”

“Did you… just recognize me by my  _ eyebrows _ ?” Derek asks sounding confused and exasperated. Stiles is very used to those two reactions, just throw in annoyed…

“Yep and now I gotta save your werewolf ass even though you’re a Hale.”

“Look, I don’t need your help here.” Ah, there’s the annoyed. Life is complete again. “Peter thought I was trying to work against him with the police -” Stiles’ head snaps up. That’s new.

“Were you?” Derek growls but there’s not much heat given his condition.

“No. I don’t need the police to deal with my uncle.”

“Word on the street is you’re building your own pack to dismantle Peter’s organization and take over the family business,” Stiles pushes.

“I don’t want any part in the  _ family business _ . I want it gone, but I don’t want to take over. Trafficking people for the supernatural… it’s abhorrent,” Derek literally spits the last word on the ground. Along with blood. And there’s wet coughing.

“Let’s see if we can help with that.” And then suddenly Stiles is pulling himself up his shackles’ chain until he can turn and wrap both legs around the pipe. He then easily lifts the chain up and lets himself back down to the ground with a grunt. He walks towards Derek with a smile. “I feel like I see impressed under all that blood.”

Derek just snorts, so Stiles takes it as validation. “Alright Sourwolf, you got enough strength left to break at least one of these shackles? They block my magic,” Stiles holds one up towards Derek’s mouth. “You’ll have to bite it.” Derek rolls his eyes, but fits his jaw over the metal on Stiles’ wrist and bites down as hard as he can. It doesn’t break completely, but cracks, releasing the magic binding put on it.

“Sweet!” It feels like Stiles’ magic is waking up, thrumming through him again and he breaks both shackles off easily. “You’re next, big guy.” He pauses when Derek’s face looks distrusting. “Yeah, I’m a Spark. No, I’m not a bad guy… some of the time. Really depends on who you are actually. I’m not gonna hurt you, Derek.” With a slight nod of acceptance, Stiles reaches up to touch the chains, effectively dissolving them, and sending Derek falling into his body.

“Whoaaaa,” Stiles says, steadying the werewolf with two hands around his biceps. Really nice biceps. “How long till you’re in commission?” Derek looks up to glare and it puts him almost nose to nose with Stiles. Stiles’ eyes widen in surprise when Derek’s eyes bleed bright red and he watches as some of the deeper cuts start to heal. After a few seconds of silence, Stiles’ mouth hanging open, Derek raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Sorry, that was kinda hot. Did I mention I don’t really have a filter? We should go now,” Stiles says quickly. He turns towards the door and enhances his eyesight to see through the wall, vision similar to infrared detectors. “There’s only one guy guarding the stairs. Peter’s office is on the second floor right? And this is the basement?” Stiles already knows the exact building layout by heart.

“Yeah. Why does it matter where his office is?” Stiles flings the door open before answering, paralyzing the guard outside immediately when he runs towards them.

“Pit stop,” Stiles smiles at Derek before heading up the stairs. He decides it’s best to follow.

 

Derek’s, reluctantly, amazed at how strong Stiles is. He’s got lean muscle and unfairly attractive. Derek catches sight of tattoos peeking out of clothes and wants to see them all. They’re lucky Peter isn’t in his office once they make it there, like eight dead or unconscious people later. Stiles immediately goes over to the computer and starts typing away, hacking in and plugging a USB drive in.

“What are you stealing?” Derek asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Don’t worry your cute Alpha head about it,” Stiles replies, fingers never slowing their typing. “Can you, uh, take care of that though,” he briefly gestures towards the door. Derek looks up in time to see another werewolf stomping towards the open office doorway. He lets his claws and fangs extend, eyes glowing red, before meeting the other werewolf in the hall to fight. Stiles glances up occasionally, admiring Derek’s fighting skills (and possibly his ass) while the download finishes up.

Stiles tucks the USB into a magic-protected pouch that he snaps to another dimension for safe keeping. He walks out to find a panting Derek standing over an unconscious henchman. He pats him on the shoulder before stepping over the body. “Good job, big guy. Let’s bounce.”

They exit through a side door that leads to an alley. Stiles squints at the setting California sun, and when he turns to speak with Derek, the werewolf is already walking away. Into a street full of people while he’s covered in blood.

“Dude, where are you going?!” Derek stops and looks over his shoulder.

“Home. I need to check on my pack.” Stiles rolls his eyes.

“That’s exactly what Peter will expect. Come with me, we can chat, and you can call your pack. From a burner cell.” Stiles could tell Derek was reluctant. He can’t imagine what his Alpha senses feel like regarding the safety of his pack. “Look dude. You don’t trust me, I don’t trust you, but I can help. Right now and with Peter.”

“Fine.” Derek turns around and walks back towards Stiles, following him when the Spark takes off in the other direction between two buildings. “But don’t call me dude,” he growls.

“You got it, Sourwolf,” Stiles says with a wink.

 

About ten minutes later, Stiles grits his teeth as Derek complains  _ again _ about the smell. “Look, we’re walking in a sewer, it’s not going to smell great.”

“You don’t have enhanced senses like I do,” the Alpha reminds him.

“Oh my god. You are so needy,” Stiles says, doing a spell that surrounds them in a “bubble” of fragrant air - like the forest after it rains. “Better?” Derek just grunts. “We’re almost there anyway.”

They emerge in one of the seedier parts of town, neon signs flickering as twilight surrounds them. Stiles starts walking towards a motel Derek would never dream of setting foot in any other time. There’s no one at the front desk, just a pretty brunette dressed in scant clothing - probably an escort - ignoring them to examine her nails. Stiles continues forward and up two flights of stairs until he’s squatting down to pick the door’s lock.

“Couldn’t you just use magic?” Derek asks, confused.

“Yeah, but it’s fun to traditionally do things sometimes. Nostalgic,” he explains. The lock clicks and Stiles swings the door open, gesturing for Derek to walk in first. The apartment is small and definitely hasn’t been taken care of. It’s one open room except for the small bathroom adjacent to the kitchen. Walls are a stained yellow and the creaky hardwood floors have seen much better days. There’s a mattress with crumpled sheets and a sad looking couch next to a table for two; other than that it’s void of any furniture.

“Here,” Stiles offers, handing a bottle of water to Derek he pulled from the fridge. “This is a temporary location. Not the nicest, but makes for a good safehouse.”

“I guess.” Derek chugs the whole bottle, not realizing how thirsty he had gotten while hanging in his Uncle’s basement for two days. Stiles’ eyes are assessing and he tosses him another bottle of water.

“Bathroom is obviously through there,” Stiles gestures with his head. “A shower would do you some good.”

“I need to call my pack first.” Stiles watches him drain the second bottle and can’t help licking his lips watching the muscles in Derek’s neck move. The Spark shook his head, forgetting the image, and heading to a cabinet to pull out a cellphone. He feels Derek shift closer, sit the empty bottles on the counter.

When Stiles turns around there’s about a foot between them and he raises an eyebrow. “Personal space, Sourwolf.” Derek scents the air and his brows scrunch in confusion.

“You don’t have any trace of magic in your scent,” he comments. He leans in, inhaling so close Stiles feels the rush of hot breath on his neck. Stiles places a hand on Derek’s chest and pushes, asking for more space. “Scent blockers are  _ very _ hard to get,” he goes on, eyes squinting in suspicion.

“Not your business, big guy. Want the phone or not?” Stiles hangs the phone between them, face blank. Derek frowns but takes it anyway, dialing in Boyd’s, his second’s, phone number.

“You smell wrong though - incomplete,” Derek says quietly, turning to walk towards the other side of the room while the phone rings.

Stiles half listens to him inform his pack what’s happened and where he is now and half considers how he would smell wrong to Derek if the wolf has never smelled his original scent before. He decides to research it later and goes about getting a change of clothes for Derek.

“Decide on a rendezvous location?” Stiles asks, exchanging the clothes for the phone.

“Yeah, but I’m not telling you,” Derek says, closing the bathroom door behind him.

“Are you always this pleasant?” he says aloud, knowing the werewolf will hear him. He plops down on the couch, dialing and holding the phone up to his ear. Scott answers on the second ring.

“Checking in. Package given and returned to base. Got a plus one though,” Stiles reports.

“Any injuries?” Scott asks, typing heard softly alongside his voice.

“Nope, we’re good. It’s Derek Hale though. I think -”

“Stiles.”

“No, no, listen. He could help. Wants to take Peter down as much as we do.”

“He could be a mole. Sent  _ by _ Peter,” Scott argues. Which is valid.

“He’s not. Definitely isn’t Mr. Sunshine but he’s a good guy. We should bring him in,” Stiles counters. “You know my judgement is always on point. Trust me on this.” Scott sighs and Stiles can picture him rubbing his temples.

“Fine. Give me your full report then.” And Stiles does, starting with the warehouse ambush. A few minutes later the shower cuts off and he tries to wrap it up. “We’ll meet at Location B, 6:00 am,” Scott finishes.

“Got it. See you then.” Just as Stiles hangs up, the bathroom door opens and Derek is looking angry, stalking towards him in sweatpants and too-tight shirt.

“Who do you work for?” Derek growls out, eyes flashing red. He stops right in front of Stiles, legs pushed against Stiles’ knees and looming. Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Did you think I was a lone vigilante? You’re smarter than that, Derek, so cut the Alpha display shit. It doesn’t work with me,” Stiles says, face serious. Derek doesn’t back off, so Stiles stands up so their noses almost touch. “Do you want to fight? You frustrated you had the shit beat out of you and your pride shredded? Go on then. Punch me,” he goads, shoving at Derek’s chest.

The werewolf is surprised he stumbles backwards and he snarls before landing a punch to Stiles’ jaw. Stiles barely moves other than his head turning to the side. Another punch lands on his stomach, but again he barely moves. Derek goes for a third hit and Stiles catches his fist mid-swing, hand subtly glowing gold where his fingers are wrapped around Derek’s.

“Let it go.” Stiles’ eyes are glowing now and he sees the fight drain from the Alpha’s face, eyes returning to normal. He guides Derek onto the couch where he leans forward, elbows on his knees, and hands holding his head up. Stiles stands in front of him, debating how much to tell, but knows he needs to start earning Derek’s trust if he wants him to work together.

“I work for the Supernatural Intelligent Agency, a sister company to the CIA that focuses on criminals of the supernatural variety. I work with a team, who I just checked in with, and you saw one member downstairs who took the USB drive I had with Peter’s information on it.” Stiles explains. Derek finally meets his eyes.

“The escort downstairs?”

Stiles snorts. “That’s adorable. Most people call them prostitutes, but yeah. Allison is one of our best field agents. Great marksman.” Stiles sits down on the couch with Derek, seeing the other’s intrigued. “Scott is team leader. He’s a werewolf like yourself, but he’s a True Alpha. I was on the mission when he got the upgrade.”

“And your position?” Derek asks.

“Assassin, intel recon, tech wiz, first line of defense and offence. Typically a lone wolf, excuse the irony,” Stiles says with a chuckle. “I wear a lot of hats. I’m who they send in when they want something down fast and done right. My magic is well trained.”

Understanding flicks across Derek’s features. “You got caught on purpose.” Stiles flashes a grin.

“Sure did. Didn’t account on you being there though,” he admits. “Seemed like the easiest way to get into the building was for them to just bring me in themselves.”

“They shot you with a tranq dart and had your magic bound,” Derek says, edging on exasperated disbelief. Stiles shrugs.

“I would’ve figured something out. Always do.” Derek looks reluctantly impressed again and Stiles smiles. “I want you to help us take down Peter. You’ve got inside family information and connections I could never use and it will help keep your pack safe.” Stiles stands then, intent on taking a shower himself. “Take some time to think it over. It won’t be easy.”

He grabs some clothes and heads to the bathroom. The door is halfway shut when Derek’s voice makes him pause.

“Okay,” Derek says, still on the couch. Stiles looks up and catches his eye.

“Welcome to the team.”


End file.
